


Don't Want You To Get It On With Nobody Else But Me

by espark



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, First Kiss, Jealousy, Love Triangle, M/M, Miranda had to be jealous, POV Outsider, at least to start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espark/pseuds/espark
Summary: Miranda’s temper flared, “Thomas, are you asking me to talk you out of it, or for my permission?”“I am asking if you think James is in love with me.”





	Don't Want You To Get It On With Nobody Else But Me

From the parlor window, Miranda Hamilton surveyed the men traveling through Hanover square for a tricorn and a navy uniform. James needed to arrive soon, before the earl. Her pretense at embroidery lay idle in her lap as doubts and worst-case scenarios filled her mind. What else could she do but wait? She had done what she could to avert disaster. Now, all her hopes of rescue were pinned on James. 

The day had started so well.

She had woken late, happier than she had been in years. After spending much of the previous night in James’ bed, she had been pleasantly worn out and had easily fallen asleep back in her own bed. God, that man had vigor.

Thinking of James made her smile. She had never felt this way about a man before. The lieutenant was charming, diligent, and unflaggingly attentive. He took his time with her. He would gently kiss her face, neck, and shoulders, suckle her nipples until she squirmed with need, and use his hand to give her pleasure, before taking his own. He was one of those rare men who was not diminished by a woman’s appetites, but encouraged them. James was also one of the handsomest men she had ever met, in and out of clothes. For the first time, she found herself imagining the rest of her life sharing her body with just one man. Him, and only him. She could never tire of James or send him away. Until today, it had not occurred to her that he might leave her for another.

The first sign of distress had arrived at her sitting room in the guise of a pleasant request.

“Might I have a word?”

It had been her husband, Lord Thomas Hamilton, amateur philosopher and political idealist. He had worn no wig, blond hair lying askew, reflecting his ease with her. His serious expression had been at odds with his casual attire.

“Of course,” she had said, laying aside some correspondence. “Tell me what is on your mind.”

“Miranda, I trust you more than anyone else, your character and your judgment.”

“Oh dear. It sounds like you’ve come up with a bold and terrible idea,” she had teased.

“I’m afraid I have, and I want you to try to talk me out of it.” Thomas excelled at being both clever and kind. God, she loved her husband. Not as a husband, but as a friend.

Thomas had used the same phrase “try to talk me out of it,” when he had privately given her an opportunity to refuse their marriage of convenience. They had discussed the matter rationally and amicably. She had been fond of him and the title he would inherit. In the end, she had not, in fact, talked him out of it. They had been married for over ten years and, predictably, there had been no children.

“Very well. I am listening.” 

“First, I believe our home life, and the liaisons we pursue outside of it, have been more than satisfactory.”

Miranda had kept her face neutral, but inside she had grown worried. Why bring up the subject of their marriage? Both were free from censure and guilt. 

She had said, “I’ll not argue with you on that score, but I gather there is something else with which you want me to find fault.”

“Yes,” Thomas had paused, taken breath, then had said, “I want to seduce James.”

“I beg your pardon. James?” She had almost said “My James,” but caught herself. Miranda could not comprehend her husband. Thomas must have meant something else. He knew very well that she and James were lovers. 

“I’m in love with him.” He’d said it as easily as, “I’m dining at White’s tonight.”

Miranda had not known what to say. Her and James’ relationship was no ordinary liaison; she loved him. However, she could not prohibit Thomas from propositioning her lover, not after they had reiterated their mutual understanding to keep their noses out of the other’s love affairs. Since jealousy and possessiveness were forbidden, what other recourse did she have? 

Miranda could think of one legitimate concern. 

“Have you considered that he is an officer in the King’s navy and could get you arrested or worse? James is no common stable hand or footman. You would be taking a huge risk.”

“I have considered the risk, which I believe is slight. James is a practical man. He sees things as they are. He is not spiteful or callus. Moreover, I do not believe my advances would offend him. In fact, I believe he would welcome them.” Thomas had paused, looking off into the distance, no longer engaged in debate, but in memory. “Have you seen the way he smiles, just for me?”

Miranda had. With such a serious and respectful nature, James did not smile for her or for anyone else. Yet he smiled for Thomas. A crack of a smile that escaped from the corner of his mouth and hinted at a deep well of joy hidden beneath. Until now, she had not seriously considered what that smile meant.

Reflecting her own fears, she had said, “The risk of is not just to your reputation, but to your heart.” She kept her tone carefully calm, “Could you bear it if he refused you and never wanted to see you again?”

“In love and in politics, courage is knowing what not to fear.”

At last, her temper had flared. “Thomas, are you asking me to talk you out of it, or for my permission?”

“I am asking if you think James is in love with me.” She had heard the despair in his voice and her frustration had melted away.

Miranda had taken her time before answering. She had wanted to keep James for herself, but also she cared too deeply about Thomas to deceive him. 

She had equivocated, “Like you, I am not sure. Furthermore, I would caution you from acting on your suspicious until such time as you are sure, absolutely sure.”

“But if I do not make the attempt, how am I to know …”

A footman had entered and cleared his throat. Thomas had turned to face the servant. “Yes, what is it?”

The footman had handed him an envelope, bowed, and stepped back.

Thomas had opened the message and let out a long breath. “It is from Ashbourne House. The earl is coming to dine, this evening.”

“This evening. But why?” It had not made sense. Her father-in-law detested both of them, Thomas for his altruistic politics and Miranda for her wanton infidelity. She imagined the only thing she could to to deepen his animosity towards her would be to give birth to a child. 

“He wants a full report on my plan for Nassau.”

Thomas had run his hand over his face and down to his mouth, pausing at his jaw. Looking out the window, he had exhaled, dropping his hand. Finally, he had turned and given the footman instructions to prepare for the earl’s arrival.

“This will be a disaster.” Miranda had fought down the panic and tried to think what she might do to help. She had decided to instruct the servants to limit the wine; alcohol exacerbated the earl’s already abrasive manner. She had considered pleading a headache and hiding in her rooms. Her absence might decrease the potential for offense. On the other hand, it might better to draw the earl’s ire to her and away from her husband. Besides, hiding was the coward’s way and Thomas could not abide cowardice. 

And James. What would he do in her place? James would be practical, reasonable, and strategic. 

If only he were here. 

“You should send for James.” Yes. Why not? The idea grew as she spoke. “Invite the lieutenant to dinner. He can speak of practical matters - provisions, timetables, resources - and James is always a model of propriety. That should assuage your father.”

“Yes, excellent idea. If anyone who might lend credence to my plan, it would be him.”

That was not what she had meant. James could bring her husband’s lofty goals down to earth and temper Thomas’ liberal ideas with sober reality. She had needed to make Thomas understand the stakes. 

“And what if James does not lend you support? What if, as he has done many times in the past, point out the numerous flaws in your plan? What will your father do then?”

Finally, he had looked down, defeated. “We shall see. I will send for James immediately. Talk to him about it. See what he advises.”

Relief had filled Miranda. Thomas trusted James, and his judgement. It would be alright.

***

As soon as she caught sight of Lieutenant James McGraw on the street, Miranda rushed to meet him at the door. 

“I was told it was urgent,” her lover said.

She took him by the arm. “He said he wanted to see you right away.”

James must have seen the concern on her face. “What about?”

“It's all right. It has nothing to do with you and I.”

Miranda left the drawing room to let the two men talk, or rather to let James talk sense and Thomas to listen to reason.

She noticed absently that Thomas had still not put his wig on. When had her husband stopped wearing one around James?

***

Formal, lavish, and oppressive, the dinner that evening was the longest of Miranda’s life. She wore her best teardrop pearl necklace and earrings and her bronze silk gown. Thomas wore his gold-tassel frock coat and a freshly powdered wig. The table was laden with roast meats, thick soups, and exotic fruits. She had no appetite for any of it.

Thomas talked of doing the Christian thing, of starting fresh, of pardoning the pirates of Nassau. It was treasonous. 

She seethed inside, at Thomas for being naive, at the earl for being heartless, and at James for being complicit. When the two men had talked earlier, had James not counselled caution or had Thomas not heeded his advice? Either way, her husband was digging himself deeper and deeper into his father’s bad graces. Across the table from her, James sat as upright as a mainmast.

Finally, the earl turned to the lieutenant and asked, “Am I to assume by your silence that you are in agreement with this proposal?”

Miranda felt something protective snap inside her. She could no longer sit quietly, passively. There must be something she could say to salvage this wreck of a family dinner and steer the conversation back to civility. She said, “The lieutenant has dutifully expressed his reservations...”

The earl cut her off. “Madam you have done enough to damage the good name of this family. I would ask that you keep both your mouth and your legs firmly shut going forward.”

Although the earl’s words stung, it wasn’t the worst he had said to her. At the very least, she had drawn the earl’s attention to herself and away from Thomas.

“I support it,” James said, getting to his feet. “I found his argument persuasive. I find his intent to be good and true. And I find yours wanting, sir.”

Had James gone mad? He was defending Thomas and insulting the earl, damning them all with his mutiny. Miranda did not know how her father-in-law would retaliate against James and her husband, but she knew Alfred Hamilton was the worst sort of enemy, ruthless and efficient.

Then, the impossible happened. James gave Lord Alfred Hamilton, Earl of Ashbourne and the Lord Proprietor of the Bahamas, a command. “And now I think it's time you left, sir.”

As the earl stood and left the dining room, Miranda could barely breathe, let alone think what to do. She looked to Thomas. He pulled off his wig and ran his hand through his hair. She could see that his disbelief was as great as hers.

Thomas looked at James and asked, “Did you just ask my father to leave his own house?”

James turned to meet his gaze, but said nothing, so Thomas continued. “Right now he will be dispatching messages to the Sea Lords, the Southern Secretary, his friends in the Privy Council. He will stop at nothing to ensure that this plan never sees the light of day. And now you're in the line of fire.”

James held his ground, shoulders back and chin up. “People can say what they like about you. But you're a good man. More people should say that. And someone should be willing to defend it.”

Miranda felt her breath catch. What about her? Was she not a good woman?

The earl had attacked both her and Thomas. He had called her a whore and Thomas a fool. Yet for whom had James chosen to stand up? Ignored propriety in favor of noble sentiment? Risked and probably lost everything? For Thomas. The weight of James’ choice - to fight for Thomas and not her - crushed her like a misshapen corset.

Thomas must have understood James’ choice too.

Thomas stood to face James. He placed a hand on his shoulder in solidarity. In return, James smiled at him. That rare shy smile, the one he only bestowed upon Thomas. The two men were together in this, whatever the earl might do to them. 

She wanted to hate that smile, but could not deny the beauty in it.

As Thomas put a second hand on James’ shoulder, the two men locked eyes. Miranda saw the look held more than friendship, more than admiration. Such a look meant desire. 

Miranda squashed the panic that flared up inside her. Where the they going to embrace, in plain view? Could this night get any worse? At least there were no servants in the room. Perhaps James would pull away. For Thomas’s sake, she prayed that their collision course would not wreck the two men. For her sake, she wished it would.

Thomas drew an inch closer. The room became very still. Miranda saw the twinge of uncertainty cross James’ face. Might he look to her for help? But no, he returned Thomas’ unwavering gaze, a gaze as deep and vast as the sea.

Miranda didn’t know what she should do -- look away, interrupt, leave them alone? She could hardly breath. 

Thomas knew no shame. 

When Thomas leaned forward to begin the kiss, James tilted his face to meet him. Their kiss was slow and steady, anchoring them in pace. Then, Thomas stroked James’ jaw with his thumb and Miranda could no longer watch. She swallowed and looked down, her gaze sinking, along with her heart. 

Regret and doubt surged inside her. Could she had prevented this? Had she made a mistake in suggesting James come to dinner? If it had been just she and Thomas at the table, the earl would have disapproved of his son’s plan, but not left enraged. If James had been absent, he could not have rebuffed the earl, and, at the same time, proved his loyalty and love to Thomas. Might she have kept James’ love to herself?

There was no turning back, for any of them. 

She looked up to see James tentatively place his hands on Thomas’ back, as if Thomas was a phantom who might disappear if he grasped him too tightly.

No, she told herself. She refused to be jealous or to regret. That wasn’t fair. She loved James and Thomas, and she would be happy that they were happy. 

And, perhaps, they could share him.


End file.
